Writing Prompt - It's Safer This Way
by chaosfay
Summary: Alistair and Jasmine have been separated for months now, corruption among the wardens and the cure for the Taint taking precedent over their own lives.


Alistair counted the days they were apart.

He and Jasmine had been together for ten years now, but with this mess they'd been forced apart for several months. The corruption among the Wardens and finding the cure for the Taint had taken priority, and separating was the hardest thing to ever happen to them.

The day they left still made him cry. He cherished it though; he didn't know when he would see her or their little girl again.

A miracle of a child, Anabel. She would be five now.

Leliana had been the one to help them find a safe place to hide her. .

Jasmine's pregnancy was a miracle. A true blessing from the Maker. When her pregnancy became more and more evident talk started among the Wardens, much of it unkind. Jasmine was feeling threatened, uneasy, and they finally took themselves away from that place. With the help of a few trusted friends, namely Zevran, Leliana, and Nathaniel, they found a home just a few miles outside of a small town in Fereldan.

Raising a family, something neither of them had ever expected. They dared not hope for it. That was just asking to be disappointed.

He wasn't sure who he missed more; Anabel or Jasmine? Anabel had Jasmine's hair but his eyes. She laughed like her mother, and Jasmine had said she their daughter must get her courage from him. Anabel was a quick learner according to Zevran when he visited. She started walking early, talking quickly, and was always getting into things.

Would she be a mage? All things considered there was a fair chance of that. Does she carry the Taint or is she immune to it? That question was one of the reasons Jasmine decided to venture out and find the cure for. If their daughter was born with the Taint what would it to do her? Would she live long, or die young?

He opened the small waterproofed pouch he kept with him at all times. Inside was a lock of Jasmine and Anabel's hair. Two braids bound to each other with ribbons Jasmine wore at their wedding.

Anabel's location is a mystery to both of them. It was safer that way. Leliana knows where their daughter is, and had made it perfectly clear she would kill anyone to protect her. If worst came to worst Leliana could claim the child as her own. The red hair may provide enough to convince some, threats would convince others not to question her parentage.

Now he sat with Leliana, staying in Skyhold to recover from his wounds at Adamant. They had finally received word from Jasmine; a letter for Inquisitor Lavellan and a letter for him. He had read it at least a dozen times, but it was never enough. The words were burned into his memory, and he could hear her voice when he read it. It came with rose petals inside it, and smelled like her. Smoke from a harvest bonfire, rose from their garden, and the ozone after a storm. It was life, so much life.

He didn't know when he would see her again, or if he would. Knowing she was still alive was enough. Now he was tasked with rebuilding the Grey Wardens, and that may prevent him from seeing her again for many more months. He wouldn't see his daughter until things were safe enough to reveal her presence. For all the Wardens knew Jasmine had lost the baby. At least that's the news Leliana's agents had spread.

There was no mention of Anabel in the letter, not even a hint. Leliana seemed proud of this caution, but comforted him with her own knowledge. Anabel was tucked away safely, no magic had shown itself yet, but they were keeping a careful eye for that. Jasmine's had surfaced when she was a little girl, not much older than Anabel now.

He missed them. Maker, he missed them. All Alistair wanted was to see them again and run away from this place. Somewhere safe where they could raise their little girl without worrying about anything other than what normal parents do. That wasn't an option. It would never be an option.

Leliana understood his tears, shedding a few of her own. No one bothered them, no one talked to them; not their agents, not the Inquisitor, no one. It was a comfort he needed. This familiarity brought him comfort, remembering happier times. Strange how that year of building an army and fighting the Blight were the happiest for all of them. So much has happened these past ten years.


End file.
